


Unexpected Visitors

by WinterRose527



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background - Freeform, F/M, Fluff and Smut, minor Jonsa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-07 16:47:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16412195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterRose527/pseuds/WinterRose527
Summary: Just read it. Fluff and smut and fluff.





	Unexpected Visitors

_Where the fuck is the screwdriver?_

 

This was not a thought that Ella Baratheon had ever had. In fact, she wasn’t even entirely sure what she was going to do with the screwdriver when she found it.

 

All she knew was that if she didn’t find it she was going to die of heat exhaustion, or at the very least take a very cold bath.

 

She was staying in the guest room of her best friend Sansa’s apartment and she hadn’t thought to ask where the screwdriver was before Sansa set off on her romantic getaway with her new boyfriend because, well why would she?

 

If she had been in her townhouse, she would have known exactly where everything was and her caretaker could have taken care of it, but she wasn’t. The looming promise of heat stroke was yet another reason to hate Trystane Martell.

 

The more obvious, of course, was finding him, her fiancé, in their bed with a prostitute.

 

That had happened yesterday afternoon when she’d arrived home early from work to change for a benefit they were meant to attend. She had promptly kicked him out and thrown his clothes out their bedroom window, contacted a charity to clear the house of furniture, and employed a cleaning service to clean her home from top to bottom, wanting to eradicate everything that Trystane Martell might have breathed on, let alone touched.

 

She kept waiting to be sad about Trystane. Objectively, finding one’s fiancé in bed in the arms of another was _sad_. There was a whole life she was meant to live that she was now unable to. But she didn’t feel sad. All she felt was angry, and tired. Far more tired than she ever imagined she might feel at the age of twenty-four.

 

It wasn’t that she didn’t know Trystane was a playboy. He always had been. They’d grown up together in a way, their families both part of the set that summered in Highgarden. It had seemed perfectly natural to everyone that one July night Trystane would take her hand, as though he’d always been meant to hold it, and ask her to dance.

 

_“Your girlfriend doesn’t look very happy about this,” she warned him, nodding at the lingerie model glaring at them as he lead her languorously to the beat._

 

_“She’s not my girlfriend,” he said with the grin that had stolen many hearts, “I’m not the girlfriend type, so I’m told.”_

 

_“By girls that you cheated on?,” she asked._

 

_“No,” he chuckled, “I’ve never been with someone long enough to cheat on someone. Why do you think it took me so long to come to you?”_

 

_“As though I’ve been waiting for you,” she scoffed._

 

_“You haven’t,” he said, the first note of earnestness in his gaze, “I know you haven’t. Even still I’ve been preparing for you for many years now.”_

 

_“That sounds ominous,” she said._

 

_“Oh you have no idea,” he grinned._

 

So she’d known he’d been trouble. That is why it had taken her four months to agree to go on a date with him and another six months to agree to be his girlfriend.

 

That was what angered here the most. She’d given him so many opportunities to walk away.

 

_“When are you just going to realise that we aren’t meant to be?,” she asked him._

 

_“When I stop believing that we are,” he said, pulling her towards him. “I love you, Ella. Don’t you know that?”_

 

_“It’s not enough,” she said, pushing away from him. “It was one thing when our families supported this but now - your Uncle just threatened my Grandfather at his 70th Birthday!”_

 

_“Well your Grandfather was kind of being a dick…,” Trystane offered._

 

_She looked at him bewildered and then burst out laughing._

 

_He took the opportunity and pulled her back to him, “Your Grandfather will get over it. Or he won’t and they’ll murder each other. Our families are crazy, Ella. They really should all be locked up. Don’t use them as an excuse.”_

 

_“Trystane…,” she said._

 

_“You’ve been holding back for months now,” he said, “Forget about my Uncle, your Grandfather, every last Lannister and Martell… and tell me, here and now that you don’t love me.”_

 

_“I can’t.”_

 

_“So marry me.”_

 

_“Why?,” she asked._

 

_“Because you’ve run out of excuses not to.”_

 

He’d made her love him. Forced her to really. He had a charm about him that made you feel like the single most interesting person in the whole world, and he was fun and unpredictable. His family was nearly as crazy as hers was and they’d laughed their way through society events and family dinners. He’d been her safe haven through it all.

 

“ _MOTHERFUCKER!_ ,” she shouted when another drawer did not contain the screwdriver she was looking for.

 

It was a cold January night outside but Sansa’s furnace was intense and the front desk had told her the handyman had gone home for the night. They’d promised to call him and send him up if he was able to come, but she’d been told not to bank on it.

 

She’d called her half brother Gendry who lived back in King’s Landing and he’d told her that she could _Jimmy it_ with a screwdriver. Her pride did not allow her to ask who Jimmy was and what exactly he did and she’d instead focused all of her attention on finding the screwdriver.

 

She knew she could text Sansa and ask but she didn’t want to bother her. She was away for her first weekend with her new boyfriend, and Ella didn’t want to get in the way. She hadn’t met _Jon Snow_ yet but he sounded pretty special.

 

When she’d shown up yesterday, suitcase in hand, Sansa had offered to cancel, but Ella knew enough to know that Jon Snow was not an every day kind of man and she didn’t want to get in the way, so she’d simply hugged her, thanked her, and promised to replace the bottle of gin she was sure to finish in Sansa’s absence.

 

She walked by the mirror and nearly jumped at her reflection. She was in exercise shorts and a bralet, because she’d stupidly packed for the _winter_ and it was all that she had that was semi-appropriate for the heat. Her hair was up in a messy bun and her cheeks were flushed from the heat, a little bit of perspiration was gathering on her skin.

 

_No wonder he cheated. In our bed. With a whore._

 

“NO,” she said to herself, remembering what Sansa had said to her.

 

_“Him cheating has absolutely everything to do with how terrible he is and absolutely nothing to do with how wonderful you are.”_

 

She heard the front door unlock and she ran to it, hoping that the handyman had come after all.

 

“Holy shit,” the man said.

 

He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. She had no idea who he was or what he was doing there, but one thing was for certain: He was definitely not the handyman.

 

***

 

Robb waved to Sansa’s doorman as he walked into her building. It had been a long day at the office and all he wanted was to go back to his apartment and go to bed.

 

They were all long days, having just moved to the Vale to head up the Eastern division of Stark Industries, as he was settling in with the new team. Even still today had been particularly gruelling.

 

He’d come to Sansa’s to pick up a package his Mom had addressed to her by accident, because he had a feeling it contained some baked goods that he would definitely want this weekend.

 

Sansa was gone for the weekend, off with his best friend turned her boyfriend Jon, so he let himself in.

 

 _Fuck it’s boiling in here_.

 

And then it got hotter, because the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen came skidding into the foyer in short shorts and a bra.

 

“Holy shit.”

 

She looked at him and picked up a vase of flowers, holding it out in front of her like a weapon.

 

“Who are you?,” she demanded.

 

“What are you going to do with those?,” he asked her curiously.

 

She looked at these vase and back at him and then back at the vase again.

 

“They’re roses,” she said, “They have thorns.”

 

“My mistake, it was a good plan,” he said with a grin, “But um, I’m Robb Stark, Sansa’s older brother…”

 

“Sansa’s… oh, okay, hi,” she said, relief washing over her face. She placed the vase of flowers back on the table, “I’m sorry, that must have been I mean,” she did a little gesture with her hands that he thinks meant _crazy_ but either way was absolutely adorable.

 

“I’m sorry to frighten you,” he said honestly, “I didn’t think anyone would be here.”

 

“Right, no, of course, I mean I shouldn’t be,” she said with a shake of her head.

 

“Should I pick up the vase now?,” he asked her.

 

“What?,” she asked, her brow crinkling, “No! Sorry I… I was _invited,_ I just hadn’t planned to be here, really.”

 

“Okay,” he nodded. Then figured he should ask, “Who are you?”

 

“I’m Ella Baratheon,” she said and realisation dawned on him.

 

He’d been hearing her name since Sansa moved to the Vale, but for one reason or another he’d never met her. He’d seen the pictures on Sansa’s instagram, but despite showing a beauty, they hadn’t done her credit. There was nothing quite like the… live experience, and he might have transferred to the Eastern division of his company earlier if he’d known.

 

“The best friend,” he nodded in understanding.

 

“The older brother,” she said back and then scrunched her nose adorably. “Sorry I think the heat has gotten to my head.”

 

“Yeah it’s bloody hot in here, isn’t it?,” he said to her and walked into the kitchen and went under the sink to grab the toolbox he knew his Dad would have placed there when Sansa first moved in.

 

“I’ve been looking for that!,” she said, and offered, “If there’s a screwdriver in there you can probably just Jimmy it.”

 

“Jimmy what?,” he asked her in bemusement.

 

“You know, the thingy,” she said, the confidence gone from her voice.

 

From what he knew of her, he found it hard to believe that she’d ever opened a toolbox or held a screwdriver and he couldn’t help but tease her just a little bit.

 

“What is it that you do, Ella?,” he asked her.

 

“I run the non-profit division of Fury Corp.,” she said.

 

_A do-gooder too._

 

“Stick with that, alright?,” he joked, “You’ve got _no_ future as a handyman.”

 

She chuckled and nodded, accepting that reality, and gestured for him to go into the living room. He took off his suit jacket and got on the floor, _jimmying it_ as she’d suggested and he heard a squeak as the heater returned to normal.

 

He stood up and forced one of the windows open so that the apartment would cool down in the meantime, and she ran up to it closing her eyes as the gush of cold air flooded in.

 

They were suddenly standing very close to one another and her body was covered in a thin coat of perspiration, her cheeks were flushed a glorious pink and he realised just how lacy her bra was up close.

 

He cleared his throat and looked away and she looked down at herself.

 

“Oh my god,” she said.

 

“Yeah,” he nodded.

 

“I’m usually way more dignified than this,” she said, her arms over her chest, “In fact, I’ve been told that I am positively _charming_.”

 

“I didn’t say I wasn’t charmed,” he said with a grin.

 

She bit her lip and tapped her foot as though she was mulling something over and said, “Do you drink gin, Robb Stark?”

 

“No, Ella Baratheon… but Sansa’s got whiskey,” he said, all thoughts of his bed long forgotten.

 

“I’ll have a martini, dry,” she said, and added haughtily, “I assume you know how to make one.”

 

“If not, I could always just jimmy it,” he teased her.

 

She pursed her lips like she didn’t want to laugh and turned on her heel, heading towards the guest bedroom. She turned and smiled in surprise when she saw him watching her and then scurried down the hall.

 

He opened a few more windows and loosened his tie before heading over the the bar cart and pulling out the gin and vermouth.

 

He grabbed some ice and poured everything in the martini shaker, and started shaking it.

 

“Let me guess, after freshman year you tried to piss off your parents by bartending instead of getting an internship…,” he heard from behind him.

 

“My technique that good?,” he asked with a grin and turned around, nearly dropping the martini shaker when he saw her.

 

She’d changed into a little black dress. It wasn’t revealing at all, but it was sleeveless and followed the subtle lines of her body, stopping just above her knee. 

 

“Sansa told me,” she said with a calm smile.

 

She’d taken her hair down as well and her golden waves framed her face, one tickling her jaw.

 

“Are you going somewhere?,” he asked.

 

“I didn’t think it was fair for you to be in your suit while I was lounging in pajamas,” she said, walking behind him and returning with a martini glass and a tumbler.

 

“Very democratic of you,” he said.

 

He hadn’t minded the pajamas in the slightest, but she’d come back with a surety she hadn’t had at first and if wearing a dress made her more confident then he was all for it. Though she was a girl that should be confident in a potato sack.

 

She walked into the kitchen and he heard her rummaging around before she poked her head back out.

 

“I hope I’m not spoiling your evening?,” she asked politely.

 

“No uh… not at all,” he said as she disappeared into the kitchen once again. _You’re making my evening_. “So, I’m getting the feeling that I’m not supposed to ask you why you’re here.”

 

She came back into the room with a small tray of cheese and crackers and grapes and set it down on the coffee table. She sat on the couch and crossed her ankles primly.

 

“I’m staying here for a few days while my house is cleaned,” she said.

 

“That takes a few days?,” he asked her, bringing their drinks over and handing hers to her.

 

“It’s a long story.”

 

“My drink’s full.”

 

***

 

Somehow she ended up telling him everything. It shouldn’t have been a long story, how long does it take to say _My fiancé cheated on me?_

 

 

That had actually taken very little time. It was just that Robb had so many _follow up_ questions: Why? How? What? Why?

 

He couldn’t seem to get past the _why_ of it all, which was the one question she couldn’t really answer. She could guess - maybe he was bored, maybe she wasn’t adventurous enough, maybe he was just an ass - but she didn’t know, and she didn’t care. He’d cheated on her, no matter what the reason was, no matter what the circumstance, he’d chosen that getting laid in that moment was more important than the two years of their relationship, and there was no explanation in the world that would make her forget that.

 

Robb _did_ care though, and they talked about it all through her first martini and his glass of whiskey, and she’d retraced the first few months of their relationship as he’d fixed her another drink.

 

They’d had to close the windows at one point when snow started coming in and Robb had taken off his tie in a fit of rage when she mentioned that Trystane had forgotten her birthday this past September.

 

As she drank her second martini it became harder and harder to forget how close they seemed to be sitting and how his forearms looked with his shirtsleeves rolled up and the intensity of his blue gaze when she answered one of his questions.

 

“So that brings us to yesterday,” she concluded, trying to keep them on track, “When I came home from work and found him underneath a prostitute.”

 

“That’s _so_ fucked up,” he said, scrunching his nose adorably.

 

“Want to know the _really_ fucked up bit?,” she asked. He looked at her expectantly and she blushed and shook her head, “Wait… no I can’t tell you that.”

 

“Well now you have to,” he reasoned, his voice dropping an octave as he gave her that half grin of his.

 

She looked at him and he looked at her. He squinted his eyes at her playfully and it felt so good to laugh that she did.

 

She finished the rest of her martini and placed it on the coaster on Sansa’s coffee table.

 

“They weren’t having sex,” she said.

 

“What were they doing? Playing twister?,” he asked.

 

“She was…,” she said losing her nerve. His eyes widened and she took the drink out of his hand and finished it. She hated whiskey and she shook her head, making a _bleh_ noise that was horribly undignified. He looked at her, a small smile on his face, but his eyes wide, as if trying to convince her it was alright, so she said, “Sitting… on his _face_.”

 

He looked at her blankly and then rubbed his forehead and stood up. He picked up her martini glass without asking her if she wanted another, because she did and he must know it, and he set about making it.

 

He started shaking it and he said, “Look, I don’t want to tell you how to feel about any of this. But can I ask why that’s more fucked up than them having sex?”

 

“Well because he never did that to me,” she said, before she could stop herself.

 

He stopped shaking it and stared at her. She went beet red, burying her face in her hands.

 

“Oh my god, can you leave? I need to die of embarrassment now,” she groaned.

 

“He never… he _never_ went down on you?,” he asked her.

 

“No,” she said, lying down on the couch and tucking her feet up, her face still in her palms. “Are you still looking at me?”

 

“Yes,” he said.

 

“Stop,” she ordered.

 

He chuckled and kept shaking the martini shaker. She heard him stop and pour it and then heard ice clinking into another glass and whiskey being poured.

 

The couch shifted underneath his weight and she realised that he wasn’t going anywhere and that she’d have to face him sooner or later.

 

She sat up and picked up the martini glass, taking a large sip before she turned to him.

 

“Never?,” he asked her.

 

“Why is this so hard for you to believe?,” she asked. “Guys don’t like doing it, right? I just never really thought of it as a _thing_ until I saw him doing it to her.”

 

“Wrong,” he said.

 

“I know what I saw,” she defied.

 

“You’re wrong about guys not liking it,” he amended.

 

“Oh,” she said, and sipped her martini as casually as possible.

 

“I mean never?,” he asked her.

 

“God Robb, no _never_ , he _never_ did that to me, no one’s _ever_ done that to me, alright? So either you do it to me or shut up about it,” she growled.

 

“Sounds fair,” he said.

 

“So you’ll shut up about it?,” she asked.

 

“Not my first choice, given the options,” he told her.

 

She looked at him and he looked so smug that she chuckled. She stood up and brought the tray of crackers back into the kitchen. When she came back out she realised there was no mirth in his eyes. In fact, she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen a man look at her the way he was in that moment.

 

“You’re not kidding, are you?”

 

“Not even a little bit.”

 

“So you just want to…,” she trailed off, not being able to find the words.

 

“Feast on your cunt until you fall apart against my tongue,” he said, his eyes locked on hers, “For starters.”

 

“For… for _starters_?,” she asked, “Where the hell do you go from _there_?”

 

“Want to find out?,” he asked her, standing up.

 

“Robb…,” she started.

 

“You’re angry, right?,” he asked her, “At Trystane?”

 

“Of course I am,” she said.

 

“I’d say revenge was in order, wouldn’t you? The way I see it, the choices are pretty clear. Either we find out where he is and I beat the shit out of him _or_ I fuck the life out of you.”

 

She surveyed him, trying in vain to find any hints that he might be kidding. Her gaze lingered up his trousers, to his trim waist, his strong hands and the muscles of his arms that grew evident whenever he moved. She looked over the his square jaw and full lips and finally into his deep blue gaze that appeared to have followed her eyes on their journey.

 

“How drunk are you?,” she wondered.

 

“Not,” he said.

 

She believed that, she wasn’t drunk and he was much larger than her.

 

“What about Sansa?,” she asked.

 

She was her best friend, she might be uncomfortable with it. Further, while she’d never met Robb before tonight, he’d moved here now and she knew they’d probably run into one another.

 

He shrugged and pointed out, “Well she’s dating my best friend, so that hardly gives her a leg to stand on… and besides, _I_ won’t tell her. I mean, I’m not really in the habit of divulging the details of my sex life to my sister.”

 

“What’s in it for you?,” she asked.

 

He chuckled at her, “Is that a trick question?”

 

She shrugged and his eyes turned stormy as he walked towards her.

 

“I’m just out of a relationship,” she warned, “I don’t want anything serious.”

 

“I just moved here and work 90 hours a week,” he said, “I can’t have anything serious.”

 

“I…,” she started and he looked down at her in bemusement, “Am out of questions.”

 

“I’ve got one,” he said.

 

“Shoot,” she said, trying to be brave.

 

“Am I beating him up, or…”

 

“Violence is never the answer…”

 

***

 

_Meanwhile_

 

“I’m going to kill him,” Jon grumbled.

 

“Jon, I’m sorry,” she said as he pulled a u-ey.

 

“I’m not angry at _you_ Sansa,” he said, though the tone of his voice suggested he might be just a little bit.

 

“Well you should be, I’m sorry. You planned this lovely weekend and all I’ve wanted for so long is to be with you and now I… I haven’t shut up about this thing with Ella and I’ve ruined everything,” she sighed.

 

“You’ve ruined nothing. We will still have a romantic weekend, as soon as I find Trystane Martell and beat the _shit_ out of him.”

 

“You don’t even know Ella,” she pointed out.

 

“Yeah well, I know you.”

 

“Jon…,” she said, because really, he was so sweet, even when he was threatening physical violence. Sometimes _especially_ when he was threatening physical violence. “Come on,” she said, nuzzling against his cheek, “Take me to the hotel.”

 

“Really?,” he asked with a grin.

 

“Really,” she nodded.

 

“I’ll get off at the next exit,” he said, “You’re going to love this place.”

 

“I can’t- _motherfucker!,_ ” she cried when her phone bleeped telling her that she had a text from Trystane.

 

“What?”

 

“He… wants me to arrange a meeting for them. He said, andI motherfucking quote - _She needs to accept me for me._ I mean, who the hell does he think he is?”

 

“He’s a fucking deadman is who he is,” Jon growled, passing the exit they were meant to be taking.

 

***

 

He wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing. He’d never done this before.

 

He was a _relationship guy_ , or a serial monogamist as Arya put it. He’d never had a one night stand, and had only had sex with three women, all of whom he’d dated for six months or longer.

 

None of whom affected him like Ella Baratheon though.

 

She was intoxicating. She somehow made a story about her failed relationship endearing, sweet, and funny and she was so fucking charming. Not to mention knock you on your ass beautiful.

 

The thought of anyone having her and cheating on her was unfathomable and then when he’d heard he’d never even fucked her properly, it was too much for any man to take. He’d snapped.

 

Robb Stark had SNAPPED.

 

And then the sight of her brought him entirely back into focus. She’d asked him to wait for her in the guest room while she’d gone to freshen up.

 

She’d removed her dress and was wearing a different bra than she’d had on when he first came into this apartment, this one was black and had matching panties. Somehow he liked it even better than the first.

 

“You don’t have to seduce me, Ella, I’m a sure thing,” he teased her.

 

She gave a surprised little laugh and looked around, smoothing the bedspread.

 

“Come over here,” he told her.

 

She walked towards him and he said, “Take off my shirt.”

 

She needed something to do with her hands, something to distract her. He was more than happy to provide that distraction.

 

She looked at him and then nodded, her delicate fingers going to his top button and pushing it through the hole. She repeated this with the next and he buried his nose in her hair, breathing in whatever that smell was. His fingers trailed up the soft skin of her arms and she undid another button and then another, faster now.

 

He cupped her cheeks in his hands and she pushed the shirt off one shoulder and then the other, her eyes never leaving his. 

 

Her mouth was open slightly and her eyes raked down him and she pressed a kiss to his chest and then another, her fingers trailing up and down his abs.

 

It was entirely possible that her desire for him was curing her of her shyness and it was the most arousing thing he’d ever encountered.

 

His hands wandered down her body and cupped her ass and her breath hitched. He picked her up by it and walked her back to the bed, tossing her on it.

 

He crawled on top of her, kicking off his shoes and finally kissed her soft pink lips.

 

She was all wildfire and roses, licking through his veins and blooming for him all at once. 

 

He wanted to feel all of her at once and rolled them so that she was on top of him, pulling her against his body. Her hands cupped his face and she kissed him deeply, her legs slowly straddling him.

 

He tugged her legs on either side of him and sat up, forcing her to arch her back so he could kiss her chest, and her breasts. He couldn’t get enough of her and her soft body and he rolled her on her back once again so he could kiss her ribs and her flat stomach.

 

He began kissing his way down further when she pushed at his shoulders.

 

“Wait!,” she said and it was like a bucket of ice water.

 

He panted and backed away, “What’s wrong?”

 

“Well what if…,” she said, the shyness now returned, “What if the reason that no one has ever is bec-“

 

“Don’t finish that question,” he told her, knowing what she was going to ask. It was absurd, that someone as irresistible as her could doubt herself. Fucking the life out of her might not be enough, he might have to beat the shit out of Trystane as well. Even still, this seemed like a good place to start, if she was up for it. “If you don’t want to do this that’s one thing-“

 

“I want to,” she said softly.

 

“Okay,” he nodded, pressing a kiss to her stomach, and hooked his fingers in her panties and dragged them down.

 

He eased her thighs apart and the sight of her made him whimper. He kissed the inside her thighs, his hands gripping her tiny waist and he could see and smell her arousal and it made his entire body shudder with want.

 

He licked along her slit, tasting her and groaned. Trystane Martell was a fucking idiot but in that moment he almost loved him for granting him this opportunity.

 

He ran his tongue over her, parting her folds and finding her little pearl. She let out a gasp and he pressed against her with his tongue again.

 

Her hands found his hair and he let his tongue wander over her. He sucked on her pearl and she pressed against his head, pushing him up against her. She let out a moan as he pushed one of his fingers inside of her, as his tongue explored her folds.

 

He started fucking her with his finger, his cock was hard to the point of pain when it realised how tight and wet she was, how good she tasted and how intoxicating she smelled.

 

He let out a groan when she started grinding against his face, wondering if it was possible he would come just from this.

 

 

“ _Robb, oh god, yes!,”_ she cried and he licked her more ardently, adding another finger. “Right there, right there, I’m - oh _goddddd_.”

 

Her fingers went limp in his hair as her thighs tremored and he licked her until he felt her stop pulsing against him.

 

“I’m twenty-four years old,” she said breathlessly, as though almost to herself.

 

“I’m twenty-seven,” he said, because he wasn’t sure if she knew that.

 

“I’ve gone twenty-four _years_ without… oh my god,” she said.

 

Her calves were hooked over him and she was rubbing them against his back. It felt oddly nice and he kissed her belly button.

 

He nipped her ribs, kissed over her abdomen. She was so fun to kiss and touch, and his hands wandered up and cupped her small breasts. Her nipples were peaked and he rolled them in his thumbs, delighting in her sighs.

 

“I’m… I’m ready…,” she said and he looked up at her, “You… don’t have to… I don’t need anymore foreplay to be able to…”

 

He moved up her body so he could look her in the eyes and he trailed his fingers over her dainty collarbone.

 

“This isn’t about need,” he tried to explain, his fingers trailed down to her breast, “It’s about _want_.” His fingers wandered down even further until he could part her folds and circle her little pearl with his finger, “Do you _want_ me to keep touching you?”

 

Her eyes were cloudy and there was a tear on her eyelashes and she nodded. He replaced his finger with his thumb and cupped her, letting two fingers push inside of her.

 

She was watching him and he was watching her as he moved them in and out of her almost lazily.

 

“I could touch you all night,” he said, propping himself up on his elbow and kissing her breast.

 

“Okay,” she agreed.

 

He chuckled at her and she giggled and he increased his speed and his pressure and then she wasn’t giggling anymore she was sighing and moaning. Her small hand gripped his shoulder and her hips were lifting off the bed and her _eyes_ were still on his.

 

“ _Robb_ ,” she cried softly, “Oh god right there, right -“

 

He grabbed her and rolled over, pulling her so she was straddling him.

 

“Robb,” she whimpered.

 

“Show me, Ella,” he said, his fingers dancing over her, “Show me exactly how you want it, sweetheart,” he said, the endearment rolling off his tongue without thought.

 

She started moving her hips and then sighed, switching the speed. He waited patiently, more than happy for her to try as many speeds and angles as she wanted, because by god if it wasn’t a brilliant sight to behold.

 

She held his wrist and rocked against him and let out a moan.

 

“That’s it, Ella,” he nodded.

 

She rocked her hips and her head fell forward, her silky hair tickling him as her head fell against his shoulder.

 

She was well and truly riding his fingers now.

 

“Robb?,” she asked, “Will you keep talking to me?”

 

“Of course I will, sweetheart… Do you know how good you feel on my fingers? I can’t wait to feel you on my cock. Do you want that, sweet girl? Are you going to let me show you how much I want you?”

 

“ _Yes, yes, Robb.”_

 

“Oh fuck, Ella, I can feel your pretty cunt tightening around me. Did I tell you how good you taste? So sweet, just like the rest of you, that’s it beautiful, you’re so close, aren’t you?”

 

She nodded biting her lip, her eyes squeezed shut as she rotated her hips in a small circle. 

 

“That’s it, that’s it, just like that, use my fingers sweetheart, use any part of me that you want,” he pleaded with her. She was a goddess above him and everything about her was soft and delicate, “I just want to make you come, you’re so fucking pretty when come. That’s it Ella, you’re almost there, I’ve got you sweetheart.”

 

 _“Robb_ ,” she sighed as her body shook, her lips parted in that perfect O.

 

He sat up and she reached for his lips as he reached for hers and her fingers were in his hair and his hands were touching any part of her that he could.

 

She broke the kiss and kissed his cheek, her teeth nibbling his jaw. He let out a low noise and her eyes flashed in his and then she was pushing him back against the pillows.

 

She pressed a trail of kisses up his neck and took his earlobe in her lips and sucked. He was gripping her harshly he knew, but she wasn’t complaining.

 

He felt her fingers trail down to his belt and then went further to cup him through his trousers. He saw stars, he was so hard and in desperate need of relief, but there was only one place he wanted to get it from.

 

“Ella, stop, I don’t need you t-,” he started and she tugged on his earlobe with her teeth.

 

“I thought this wasn’t _about_ need,” she said in a low voice. Her fingers trailed back up to his abs and over his nipples, up until she was holding his cheek in her hand. She kissed him softly on the lips, her tongue dipping in shallowly, just enough to make him search for it back. But she pulled away and looked into his eyes, a small satisfied smile on her lips, “Do you not _want_ me to touch you, Robb?”

 

It appeared two orgasms were all it took to give her the confidence she sorely needed, even still, he wasn’t going to let her doubt herself for a moment, not after she’d obviously had years of it.

 

“Oh I want you to touch me,” he nodded, wrapping his arm around her waist and flipping them so she landed against the pillows, “But what I _really_ want is to fuck you and I swear, beautiful, if you so much as breathe near my cock I’m going to come for you right here, right now.”

 

***

 

She’d never felt so desired in her entire life.

 

Forget about the orgasms, not that she was sure that she ever would, the look in his eyes right now was the single most erotic thing she’d ever felt.

 

His eyes were nearly black and he was so very large above her and even still she felt safe and wanted and it was intoxicating.

 

“Robb will you…,” she started and lost her nerve.

 

“Yes,” he nodded, “Whatever it is, yes. You’re in control, beautiful, whatever you want.”

 

She pushed him off of her gently and he fell back against the bed. She rolled on her stomach and got up on her knees, turning to look at him.

 

His eyes were wandering over her body and he looked back up at her and swallowed.

 

“Will you take me like this?,” she asked.

 

She’d never liked it with Trystane because she felt like it was impersonal, like he might be imagining someone else, but she didn’t fear that now. He gave her the feeling that he wouldn’t be able to even describe another woman in this moment and whether it was true or not, it was heady all the same.

 

“With pleasure,” he grinned, kissing her shoulder.

 

He rid himself of his trousers and boxers, getting behind her.

 

“Ella, your _ass_ is a fucking masterpiece,” he whimpered, his strong hands gripping her cheeks. “It’s prettier than most people’s faces…”

 

She snorted and she looked back at him to find him grinning, clearly realising the ridiculousness of that statement.

 

When their eyes met the mirth died in their eyes and she wiggled her butt for him just a bit and he lifted his hand and smacked it.

 

She whimpered as she felt pleasure dance through her body and he did it again, his other hand gripping her waist as she felt him press his tip against her.

 

She wasn’t sure how he was keeping it all straight, she was just watching him and she felt overwhelmed but he seemed to know exactly what he was doing.

 

“Are you ready, sweetheart?,” he asked her, his voice low and desirous.

 

“Fuck me Robb,” she pleaded. She wasn’t sure she’d ever needed to feel someone inside of her so desperately. She remembered what he’d proposed in the living room and she added, “Fuck the life out of me.”

 

He began to ease his way inside of her and her head fell forward, feeling his hard cock stretching her. He was huge, she was sure of it, but her body wanted him and she felt his thighs up against her butt as he buried himself in her to the hilt.

 

“Holy fuck,” he said, gripping her waist with both hands now, “You’ve got the sweetest cunt on earth.”

 

He drew back and snapped into her again and she cried out, pressing back against him so he’d know she needed more.

 

“Robb, please, god your cock is so _big_ ,” she cried, feeling unbelievably full, “You feel so good, _mmm_ I’ve never been filled like _this_.”

 

“Seven Hells,” he growled.

 

He started fucking her in earnest, his hips snapping against hers. His hands were gripping her harshly and she braced herself against the bed, pushing back against him, meeting his thrusts because she needed more. More of him, more of this, _more more more._

 

She hadn’t realised she’d voiced that until he groaned, “I’ll give you more, sweetheart,” he said, increasing his speed, pushing her down against the bed and somehow getting even deeper inside of her, “Like this?”

 

“Yes, oh god yes,” she agreed. His movements were so assured and confident, but every word was for her, her pleasure, it didn’t seem quite fair. “Is this alright for you?”

 

He chuckled at her, as he thrust into her again and again, “This is heaven on earth, beautiful, I would live in this cunt if I could. You’ve no idea what you feel like, sweetheart, how good you look underneath me.”

 

“Nobody,” she cried, desperate for him to know, to assure him as he assured her, “God nobody has ever felt like this, I… _oh god Robb,_ I…”

 

She wanted to be surrounded by him completely. She wanted to feel him envelop her as he invaded her again and again.

 

As though he read her mind, he covered her back with his chest, his hands taking hers and raising them above her head on the pillows.

 

She interlaced her fingers with his and he squeezed hers. He was covering her completely, every inch of her was touching him. They moved as one, as he pressed kisses to her temple. The contrast between the power of his thrusts and the gentleness of his lips made her see stars.

 

“He’s an idiot, Ella,” he said in her ear, “He’s a fucking idiot.”

 

“I don’t want to think about him,” she told him, squeezing his fingers, “I just… _oh god Robb_ … just you, I just, _you… please._ ”

 

“I’m here, sweetheart,” he promised her, “I’m not going anywhere, I will fuck you until the only name you know is mine, do you hear me? Ella, god sweet girl you are perfect and tonight you are _all mine_.”

 

“Say it again,” she urged. If it was just tonight then she wanted to hear it again, if this was what it felt like to be his, she needed it once more. “I’m so close, Robb, please tell me again.”

 

“You’re all mine, beautiful, every glorious inch of you is mine and I’m going to show you again and again. Come for me, sweetheart, it’s alright we’re just getting started, come for me. _Now_.”

 

A violent orgasm overtook her body and she cried out. He let out a single long groan as his body shuddered against hers, and he collapsed on top of her.

 

The weight of him felt oddly comforting as she lowered her hips to the bed, flattening out like a pancake. A rather overly satisfied one.

 

He moved to get off of her but she held his hands tight and he pressed kisses to her shoulder and back.

 

“I’m going to crush you,” he said to her.

 

“So?,” she asked.

 

He chuckled against her, rolling off of her. She turned her head so that she could look at him and found him already looking at her.

 

His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were bright and there was a thin layer of perspiration on his body and he was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.

 

His fingers traced circles on her back lazily and she closed her eyes and sighed happily.

 

“Are you hungry?,” she asked him after a moment.

 

“Oh you liked that, did you?,” he teased.

 

She let out a giggle and shoved him, “I meant for _food_ , pervert.”

 

“Always,” he assured her.

 

She figured three orgasms had earned him some pancakes and bacon. She leaned over and wrapped her arm around his neck, kissing his full red lips.

 

He pulled her against him, wrapping her in his arms as he kissed her until she was breathless.

 

“Come on,” she said finally, “You’ll need your strength for what I have planned for you…”

 

***

 

_Meanwhile…_

 

The city was alight with activity when they returned. It was a Friday night after all, just past ten, and all of the young professionals would be heading out to blow off steam after a long week of work.

 

“I’m not texting him, Jon,” she said firmly.

 

“This guy has it coming, Sansa,” Jon argued.

 

“For hurting her or cockblocking you?,” she questioned.

 

“ _Both_ ,” he growled.

 

She giggled, he was such an animal. She knew he wasn’t angry with her, he’d never be angry at her for not having sex with him, but Trystane… Trystane was not so lucky.

 

“You should really be angry at yourself,” she reasoned. He guffawed at her and she went on, “I mean you are the one cockblocking yourself at the moment.”

 

“Sansa he’s been all you can think about all night,” he reasoned.

 

“Well maybe you should distract me,” she quipped. They paused at a red light and she took his hand in hers and brought his fingers to her lips, kissing them. She took his index finger in her mouth and sucked on it obscenely, loving the low growl that emanated from him. She released it with a _pop_ and he whimpered, “Take me home, Jon, and make me forget all about Trystane Martell.”

 

The light turned green and Jon slammed on the gas.

 

***

 

 _“Oh my god_ ,” he moaned.

 

Ella giggled, taking a bite of the bacon he offered her and munching on it happily. He widened his eyes at her in question and she nodded, taking another bite.

 

She’d made pancakes as well and they loaded up their plates. They didn’t bother sitting at the table, Ella hopped up on the counter and he stood at it, eating in comfortable silence.

 

She’d pulled on his button up before they’d left the guest room and he’d pulled on his boxers. She looked adorable in it, the sleeves pushed up and the collar tickling her chin.

 

“I know I’m not supposed to talk about him,” he said.

 

“But…,” she prompted, offering him her last piece of bacon.

 

He took it gratefully and said, “But Ella…he’s a fucking idiot.”

 

“Maybe I’m the idiot,” she offered.

 

“For being with him?,” he asked.

 

“For trusting him,” she sighed. “I don’t do that anymore but I made an exception for him. I should have stuck to my guns.”

 

“Or maybe you just should have aimed better,” he offered.

 

_It wouldn’t be a mistake to trust me._

 

“You say that like you’ve got skin in the game,” she said with the easy smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, making him wonder how easy it really was.

 

“Maybe I do,” he said.

 

He moved in between her legs and held her small waist. The counter was high and she was at eye level, so he saw the way her green eyes were searching his face for signs of duplicity.

 

“But you’ve got 90 hour work weeks,” she reminded him.

 

“That leaves 78 hours every week,” he said, pulling her closer, “And who knows, for a girl like you I might just cut back to 80…”

 

“Robb,” she sighed, but her smile was real now and though she was shoving him her hand was gripping his shoulder keeping him close.

 

“Think about it, Ella,” he said, brushing her hair behind her ear and kissing her elegant neck, “We’ve only been at this for about an hour… think about what I could do with 88 of them…”

 

“You’d have to sleep,” she pointed out, but she was pressing a kiss to his cheek and running her hand down his back.

 

“Never cared for it,” he said.

 

“And eat,” she said, carding her hands in his hair and tilting her head back to grant him more space to kiss, which he did eagerly.

 

“ _Mmm_ but what?,” he asked, his hands gripping her thighs.

 

She looked at him with fire in her eyes and pulled his face to hers.

 

He kissed her deeply, trying to convince her, and she kissed him back, as though he was making some very good points.

 

“I’m still not ready for anything serious,” she warned.

 

“Well then we’ll just be foolish all day long,” he said, and teased, “For the rest of our lives.”

 

She giggled because she thought he was joking, and he smiled because he knew he wasn’t.

 

He started to unbutton his shirt off of her, kissing her all the while. It was amazing the sensation that happened when they kissed, it was like the outside world didn’t exist,it blocked everything else.

 

“OH MY GOD!”

 

Well, almost everything.

 

***

 

She wasn’t sure if she should hide behind Robb or push him away so she kind of did both, rebuttoning his shirt.

 

“What are you guys doing here?,” Robb asked Sansa and the devastatingly gorgeous man that was standing next to her in the kitchen.

 

“Is that a serious question?,” Jon asked. The man she figured was Jon anyway.

 

“I… I’m… Sansa I’m sorry,” she said, “We got to talking and… well it… it just kind of all spiralled.”

 

Sansa was the only one who hadn’t yet said anything, she just kept looking between her and Robb.

 

“Yeah uh… sorry Dovey,” Robb said, “Ella and-“

 

“WAIT a minute,” Jon said, then pointed at her, “You’re Ella?”

 

“Yes and if I wasn’t half naked and in one of the more embarrassing situations of my life I’d come over and shake your hand. I’ve heard such wonderful things about you,” she said.

 

“This is unfuckingbelievable,” Jon chuckled, turning to Sansa and said, “We go on a romantic getaway and somehow _Robb_ gets laid?”

 

“Yeah, fuck you Robb,” Sansa said.

 

“What the hell did I do?,” Robb bellowed.

 

“Me, obviously,” she said, ganging up on him because she really wanted Jon to like her and she had a feeling Robb would be easier to get forgiveness out of.

 

Sansa bit her lip to keep from smiling and Jon chuckled and Robb narrowed his eyes at her.

 

She turned him around and tugged him back against her.

 

“So wait, why _aren’t_ you on your romantic getaway?,” she asked them as Robb rubbed her calves lazily.

 

“Trystane. Fucking. Martell,” Jon growled.

 

“I was a little preoccupied,” Sansa explained.

 

She felt awful, Sansa deserved happiness more than anyone and she’d had a crush on Jon for so long.

 

“Oh Sansa I’m sorry,” she said, feeling tears welling in her eyes over the level of devotion her friend had for her, “You’re such a good friend.”

 

“ _You’re_ such a good friend,” Sansa said, her lower lip trembling, “And the… thought of any… of anyone hurting you… Ella you’re my _best_ _friend_ …”

 

Ella pushed Robb out of the way and hopped off the counter. Sansa left Jon’s side and they met in the middle and hugged.

 

“I shouldn’t have left,” Sansa said.

 

“You shouldn’t have come back,” she corrected.

 

“I hope _you’re_ not expecting a hug,” she heard Jon tell Robb.

 

“Dude why are you pissed at _me_?,” Robb asked.

 

“I can’t really put my finger on why exactly,” Jon said.

 

“So does that mean you’ll get over it?,” Robb asked.

 

“I’d like to say yes but it doesn’t feel like it,” Jon said.

 

She giggled against Sansa and Sansa giggled back.

 

“I’m sorry I spoiled your weekend, Jon,” she said as she and Sansa released each other.

 

“You spoiled nothing,” Jon told her generously, “From everything I’ve heard about you, you’re just about the last person in the world this should’ve happened to.”

 

“Hear, hear,” both Starks said.

 

“Well I’d feel worse about this if we didn’t walk in on you guys the way we had but - Jon?,” Sansa asked turning to him, “I believe we had um… some things to discuss… in my bedroom…”

 

“Right,” Jon nodded, “So many… important things… to um… we’re going to go fuck, bye!”

 

She turned to Robb and his face was red with rage.

 

“Robb…,” she said.

 

“Did he just say what I think he said?,” he asked.

 

He was really adorable when he was angry.

 

“Well what did you think they were going to do at that hotel?,” she reasoned, “ _Play twister?_ ”

 

He turned to her and glared and she walked towards him.

 

“Robb…,” she said.

 

He shook his head stubbornly. She ran her fingers over his abs and up his chest, standing on her tip toes so she could wrap her arms around his neck.

 

“Remember how I said you’d need your strength for what I had planned for you?,” she asked him.

 

She was in his arms in the next moment, and back in the guest bedroom a moment after that.

 

By the next Friday, he’d only worked a 70 hour week, and that following Sunday she began to realise that maybe serious wouldn’t be quite so bad.

 

***

 

ONE MONTH LATER

 

“What did Sansa want again?,” Robb asked.

 

“The lemon drizzle scone and a vanilla latte,” Jon said, then nearly shouted, “With skim milk!”

 

Robb chuckled, he was such a goner. Though truthfully, he wasn’t faring much better.

 

They were picking up breakfast before heading over to Ella’s house. Her new furniture had been delivered and he and Jon were going to help arrange it while… well while she and Sansa told them where to put it.

 

They got up to the counter and he ordered Ella’s croissant and cafe au lait, and he and Jon ordered their items as well and gave the barista his name.

 

“So I’m planning on taking Sansa away next weekend,” Jon said, “So if you could try not to end up in bed with any prostitutes in the meantime, that’d be much appreciated…”

 

“No chance of that,” Robb said.

 

He didn’t even see other women now, Ella was a fucking sorceress.

 

They waited for their orders, catching up on their weeks.

 

“Order for Trystane,” one of the barristas called.

 

“Right here,” a guy in jeans and a button up said.

 

He turned around and he and Jon crowded in.

 

“Scuse me boys,” he said.

 

“You’re Trystane?,” Jon asked.

 

“Yeah,” Trystane grinned, and turned to him, “What did I fuck your girlfriend or something?”

 

Robb looked at Jon and they chuckled at one another.

 

“Something like that,” Robb said.

 

He would have sworn that the crunching sound of Trystane’s nose was the most satisfying thing he’d ever heard, but that afternoon after Jon and Sansa left, he and Ella went to bed and nothing in the world could compare to her crying out _Yours, yours, yours._


End file.
